From the Ashes
by choc0holic
Summary: The Boy-Who-Lived has been out of sight for the past three years. Sent to find him is Hermione Granger, an old friend and one-time lover. Friends, new and old, help the duo fight the darkest magic the world has ever seen.
1. Prologue

**From the Ashes**

_Prologue_

Hermione Granger, Professor of Charms at Hogwarts School, knocked cautiously on the stone door at Blackburrow Manor seven times in quick secession. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot, unreasonably nervous. It was the first time in three years she was going to visit Harry Potter, her best friend of the old days and one-time lover. Since that fateful day three years ago, she had never seen or spoken to the infamous Boy-Who-Lived.

She sincerely hoped that Harry would remember the contents of the knock she and he had made up those many months ago, and that he would not view her as a threat approaching his home. Word had it that Harry had gotten quite eccentric over the years, and developed a nasty habit of cursing those on his front steps before bothering to see who they were and what their business was. Hermione, though she excelled at wandless and defense magic, was hoping she would not have to use her new knowledge to defend herself against someone who had once been her supposed soul mate. She was hoping, perhaps in vain, that Harry would remember her, and welcome her back into his life.

The visit that she planned to Blackburrow was not without purpose, nor was it a matter of just seeing an old friend again. There were some mysterious things at work across the Wizarding World, and everyone was beginning to fear the rise of Dark Magic. When the world panicked about Dark Lords and such things, they knew no other reaction than to go call on Harry Potter, and hope that he could save their world again. At a recent convention of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione had been dubbed the 'fetcher of Harry'. Everyone assumed she had more of a chance of getting him to fight for them than anyone else in the world.

When she had first heard of the plan, Hermione was fairly confident that she could arouse Harry's interest, and bring him back with her. But, as she moved closer and closer to his home, the eerie tales of Harry's apparent madness grew more abundant. Most people seemed to think that, world savior though he was, Harry was insane and a danger to those around him. It seemed to Hermione that everyone was so afraid of Harry that they had not approached or spoken to him in the three years since she had last seen him.

Hermione had assumed that these tales were largely exaggerated, but now that she stood outside of Harry's huge manor, she could see why the village people were nervous around him. A moat surrounded the house, much like the castles of the old days. Fortunately for Hermione, she was able to levitate herself over the water, seeing as how the bridge was drawn up. There were two menacing stone statues of gargoyles on either side of the door. The door itself was towering, at least eight feet tall. The knocker was a brass lion head, with a huge mouthful of teeth that looked suspiciously real. Hermione hadn't wanted to touch that, so she knocked on the door with her own hand, half expecting the lion head to bend and bite her.

The seconds turned into minutes, and there was still no answer from Harry. Hermione, feeling quite nervous and out of her league now, decided to take matters into her own hands. Slowly, Hermione reached out and put her hand on the large handle. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle. To her relief, the large door creaked open without a fuss. Gingerly, Hermione stepped over the threshold into the home, and closed the door quietly behind her.

She had seen large homes and finery before, but never had she seen a home quite like Harry's. The room she stepped into was large and open, with wood paneled floors and stained glass windows. A sweeping, stone grand staircase was directly in the center, branching off at the top into two stone balconies, which went off into opposite wings of the house. Renaissance paintings adorned the walls, and the few chairs around were medieval in appearance. The air was cold and damp, and Hermione had the impression that when she stepped through the door, she was brought back in time to the era when kings and queens ruled the world.

"Normally, when someone unwelcome enters this home, they are cursed into oblivion."

Hermione froze in her tracks. Harry's voice, so familiar yet so cold, echoed through the entire house. She could not tell where it was coming from, or if it was actually him speaking at all.

"However, it is not often that I receive visitors such as you, Hermione Granger. Please, take a seat."

A chair materialized in front of Hermione. It was plush and comfortable-looking, unlike the medieval furniture that surrounded the rest of the house. Hermione, however, was wary that the chair was some sort of trap. "How do I know you are not going to harm me?" Hermione asked, keeping the fear out of her voice.

Harry, wherever he was, began to laugh. His laugh was the same as it had always been, and Hermione was slightly comforted by this. "I will not hurt you, but neither will I let you go without an explanation. Why did you chose now to come here, out of the many times before when you could have come and apologized?"

She lifted up her chin indignantly, and sat down in the chair, crossing her legs. "I am not here to apologize for a crime I did not commit, Harry Potter. Rather, I am here to ask for the help of an old friend when I need it."

"And why would a witch such as you need any help? Certainly the esteemed Professor of Charms, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, knows how to handle tough situations. I, merely a lonely wizard in an empty home, cannot be of any help to you."

Hermione coughed. "Harry, you know very well that you are the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. Who else would I come to when I had a problem that involves Dark Magic and evil lords?"

"Perhaps you would go to the beloved Ron Weasley, who you seem to turn to for all of your problems." With those menacing words, Harry appeared before Hermione, green eyes blazing. She was shocked by his appearance, for it seemed that he had grown and changed almost completely in the three years since she had seen him. He was taller, and more muscular, with biceps that could easily be seen underneath his simple green shirt. His face was more chiseled and handsome than it had been, and he looked as if he was well fed and cared for. Even Harry's hair was changed, still unruly, but different. His eyes however, his brilliant emerald eyes, remained just the same as they had always been; beautiful and blazing with emotion.

"Ron is married, Harry," Hermione said simply, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "He married Luna Lovegood two years ago."

Harry smiled nastily. "Well then. Now that that is out of the way, let's get down to business."


	2. Chapter One

**From the Ashes**

_Chapter One_

Hermione looked nervously from Harry to the wall, and back again. His mischievous attitude and cynical nature was really starting to worry her. Back in grade school, Harry had always been somewhat of a rule-breaker and prankster (okay, well that was an understatement), but he had never seemed so evil before. His questions for her were mean-spirited, and they mocked everything that she had ever said and stood for. Hermione, though she was trying her hardest to maintain her famed composure, felt herself becoming more and more frazzled with every moment that passed between her and Harry.

"So, Miss Granger," Harry said, stressing the 'miss' in her name, "Why have you remained alone and husbandless all these lonely years? Surely a woman such as yourself would have been able to _charm_ a man somewhere."

Hermione chose to ignore the insult to her character and ethics. "I haven't met the right man, Harry. And I could say the same for you! Why has a bachelor such as you remained holed up in his manor without a woman for so long? That isn't proper, you know."

Harry snickered. "I haven't had time for a wife, Granger. I've been working on far more important things over the past three years. I haven't been completely idle, you know. I've been working on a project that you could only dream of. And I'm close to completion."

"Oh really," Hermione said sarcastically, "And what exactly is this 'project' of yours? Is it something to make every person in the world a complete selfish bastard, Harry, because that is exactly what you have become over the past three years."

For a long moment, Harry stared at her angrily. His eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione felt her hand drop down automatically to her wand, where it was hidden beneath the folds of her black robes. They remained in that uneasy limbo for a long while, until Harry began to laugh quietly.

"If I've been a selfish bastard to you, Hermione, it is only because you deserved it. You have never done anything kind or sweet for me in the past few years, you have never even tried to see me. And you coming here makes it obvious that you knew all along where I lived. There is no reason for you shunning me for all these years. The act of leaving me alone has made you a selfish bitch, not me a bastard."

Hermione sat still, shocked. She had no idea what to say in response to that. It was true, she hadn't sought Harry out for three years. She had assumed that he wanted his space, after taking off like he had. Never in a million years had Hermione though that Harry actually missed her company. After their angry parting, she had assumed that he would never want to see her again.

"I didn't know you looked for me, Harry."

The Boy-Who-Lived got up from his chair, and paced angrily around the room, running a hand through his black hair. "Of course I missed you Hermione! You've been the biggest part of my life since I was eleven-years-old. When you were gone, I didn't know how to deal with myself. I think I might have gone a little crazy." Harry laughed insanely for a moment, and then quieted. "In all honesty, I missed you a lot, Granger."

Tears welled up at the back of Hermione's eyes, but she reminded herself that she had to keep her composure. There was still something about this new Harry that she did not trust, something her instinct told her was amiss. She had yet to pinpoint what was wrong, however. "I apologize for my indecent behavior towards you, Harry, and I hope that I can make up any pain that I have caused you. Before we have time to speak on those matters, however, I have something truly important to ask you."

Harry sat back down, and lounged in his chair. He snapped his fingers, and a pina coloda, complete with a green umbrella, appeared in his right hand. He serenely took a sip. "Fire away."

"There is something wrong in the Wizarding World, Harry. There is some dark magic lurking beneath the surface that has yet to show its face. The Order's intelligence has been picking up on secret meetings, but they have yet to penetrate the lairs of the dark wizards. We do not know who is good, and who is evil anymore. No one can trust anyone. Though the spread of dark magic isn't widely known, an uneasy sort of panic has fallen across the world. If we don't act quickly, the dark magic might spread, and it threatens already to take over the world. We are in over our heads."

Harry took another sip of his drink. "I still don't see how this involves me."

Hermione groaned exasperatedly. "Seriously, Harry, you can be the thickest git in the world sometimes. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone respects you, they all look up to you."

"Even if I'm crazy."

She glanced into Harry's eyes again, feeling intense pain at his words. Harry seemed then to be saner than he had for the rest of the evening. Hermione instantly dropped her eyes as he raised his pupils up to make eye contact with her. There were some things she just wasn't ready for yet.

"Harry, I don't believe that you're crazy. A bit unhinged, yes, but not crazy. We need your help, the world needs your help. If we have the Boy-Who-Lived on our side, then the fighting won't be so bad. We might even scare off the bad guys before anyone gets hurt."

Harry groaned in anger, and threw his drink across the room. It crashed against the wood paneling, the contents of the glass smearing against the wall and window. "Don't you understand, Hermione? I don't care about anyone getting hurt. I've been the hero for too long! I can't go on saving everybody; I'm nothing but a normal human! There is absolutely nothing special about me. You have a better chance of succeeding without me on your side. I'm just a liability to you."

That was the final straw. Hermione stood up from her chair, and crossed quickly over to where Harry sat. She dropped to her knees beside his chair, ignoring the incessant butterflies in her stomach. She laid a gentle hand on Harry's right forearm, gently running her fingertips across his smooth skin. "You never were a liability, Harry, and you never will be. I am asking for your help because I honestly and truly need it. I couldn't… I can't do this without you. The world cannot save itself without your help! We need you Harry, more than we've ever needed you before."

Harry glanced down at where her hand rested on his arm. He smiled weakly, and then laughed. "Where the hell do I sign, Granger?"

--

Luna Weasley, previously known as Luna Lovegood, sucked on the end of her quill. Her husband, Ron, was forever telling her what a bad habit that was, as the ink traveled straight to her brain and eliminated many brain cells. However, Luna was finding it quite hard to drop the age-old habit, and had taken to sucking on her quill whenever Ron was not around to admonish her.

She was currently stuck in the midst of finishing an article for the Daily Prophet. Straight out of school, Luna had been hired as a gossip reporter for the famous newspaper. She had worked quite hard on her column, and was one of the better-known writers amidst the paper. But her reputation for writing about the obscene and astounding things of the world had prevented her from rising any higher in her position. Not that Luna minded, of course. She preferred to write about the truth of Horn-skinned Wingbats than about the boring news of society.

Of course, working for the Prophet, Luna had to meet many deadlines. She often found this hard and annoying however, as her beloved Daddy's paper was based solely on the quality of articles, not the quantity. The Prophet was exactly the opposite. Luna had had many a disagreement with her boss over this trivial issue. At that moment, she was late yet again on finishing an article. This one was especially dear to Luna, however, and she had insisted on taking a long time to finish it. She was writing about the sightings of a Crumple-skinned Snorelack in north Surrey. Her father had had an obsession with those creatures at one time, and had dragged Luna into it as well. She was taking the opportunity to show the world that the CSS (as Luna liked to call them) truly did exist.

A knock sounded on Luna's door. She took the quill out of her mouth impatiently. "Come in!" she called, staring transfixed at the unfinished article in front of her.

The door opened to reveal Ginny Weasley and Amanda Schack standing in the frame. The former was smiling widely, clutching a long parchment in her left hand. In her right was a black leather bag, containing Merlin knew what. Luna, as much as she liked her husband's sister, could never understand why Ginny had to carry so many dangerous-looking beauty products with her wherever she went.

"Luna, dearest sister-in-law," Ginny chirped good-naturedly, "I have the best of news for you!"

"Unless it is about another sighting of Crumple-skinned Snorelacks, I honestly do not want to hear about it."

Amanda laughed, and walked into the room. "I think you'll want to hear about this, Luna," she said in her strong Boston accent. Amanda was an American witch, who had reported for the Witching Hour in Salem, Massachusetts, before transferring over to the Daily Prophet. She was very good at Charms, and extremely intelligent. She got on well with Hermione Granger.

"I've got a letter here. And it's from _Hermione._" Ginny smiled wider. "She says Harry's coming back with her! They should be to your house by six o'clock tonight! We've got to prepare some sort of welcome for them!"

Luna sighed. "I have to finish this, ladies. Feel free to overrun my house, however. Ronald is always the one to clean up anyways," she said dreamily.

Ginny and Amanda exchanged glances. "Just be home by six, Luna," Amanda said, "And be sure to bring some of your work with you. I'm sure Harry Potter would love to read about the various projects you've been working on over the years. He's got to catch up with you someway, eh?"

"If you say so."

Amanda laughed, and pulled Ginny with her out of the door. "Come on Gin, we've got tons of work to do. See you later, Luna."

Luna waved good-bye distractedly, she had already returned to her article. _So,_ she mused thoughtfully, _Harry Potter is returning to London. I wonder if I can speak to him about the creatures he saw near his home. He lived in the wilderness; he must have spotted at least one Horn-skinned Wingbat._

--

Ronald Weasley was bored. He had been sitting inside his cramped office for six hours, doing absolutely nothing. There was little work to be done in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, if truth were told. Since the last war, many more Muggles had been aware of the presence of wizards. In fact, in America, there were few Muggles who didn't know what a witch or a wizard was. Due to the revelation of such things, the gap between the two worlds had closed considerably. Less and less wizards were charming objects to torture Muggles, because the Muggles now knew better than to be frightened by cheap magic tricks.

He had had little to do over the past few weeks, as it was the summer and the days were long and easy. He hated being cooped up in his office, though, when he could have been outside playing Quidditch, or spending time with his wife. Ron hated being still.

Searching for some form of distraction, Ron shifted through his stack of papers and owls one last time. He hadn't received any fresh news in over a week. He hadn't gotten an assignment in a week. Hell, he hadn't even gotten his paycheck in a week. Things were caught in such a dreadful limbo that Ron was often afraid of dying of boredom.

There **was** some dark magic stirring about his world, but Ron felt powerless to stop it. In his opinion, he was neither the brain nor the brawn of his infamous trio. Hermione and Harry could have gotten along much better without him. After all, he was a burden on all of their missions. It was him who fell through into the Devils' Snare, and him who slowed everyone down when they were trying to catch Peter Pettigrew in their third year. If he hadn't been quite so stupid or slow, the entire course of events might have been much easier.

Because of his lack of ability, Ron had sent Hermione off on a crazy mission to find Harry Potter and bring him back into contact with the Wizarding World. If there was one thing he was quite good at, it was recognizing that he was in over his head. As a co-leader of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army, Ron was quick to call in backup when it was needed. As soon as he got wind of the severity of the problems with the dark world, Ron knew that Harry had to come back. There was no way they could win without him.

The problem was more severe than even Hermione knew. Albus Dumbledore had confided in Ron, and Ron alone, that the problem had been steadily growing more and more out of hand. It had started as a meeting between a few old Voldemort supporters. Quickly, the meetings became more frequent, and grew from a group of few bitter old men to a huge gathering of evildoers. They had some new "Golden Boy", but no one knew who this was, or where to find them. Even the famed intelligence of the Order of the Phoenix could not pick up on this information. That scared Ron more than anything. These weren't just any evildoers. These evildoers were smart, and knew what they were doing.

Ron took out his wand, and conjured up a ham sandwich and bottle of pumpkin juice. He tore into the sandwich hungrily, attempting to distract himself from such dark thoughts. As he chewed the fresh meat and bread, Ron became more and more aware of the noises just outside of his room.

Someone was walking outside of his door, pacing back and forth. They were doing so quietly, as if they did not want to be heard. There were soft voices in the hallway as well, and Ron could not recognize either voice. From their tone, they seemed to be angry and arguing. But Ron, whose ears were not the sharpest, could not make out a word of what they were saying.

Dropping the sandwich onto its plate, forgotten, Ron picked up his wand and walked towards the door slowly. Holding his wand in front of him like a dagger, Ron threw open the door very suddenly. What he saw beyond the doorframe caused him to gasp and stumble in shock.

"I can see that you're following in your father's footsteps, Weasley. Who knows, you might even have a huge, redheaded and freckle-faced family one-day. I bet that's what you've always dreamed of."

"Bloody hell," said Ron, dropping his wand to his side. "If it isn't Harry Potter. And my, what an insolent bastard you've become."


End file.
